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By Root 278 0

the head of his military security unit to take charge of the search for Filba’s killer. The man was late, and Bleyd hoped-for his sake-that he would have a good reason. As he strode through the camp, the mud from the near-constant storms caking his boots, he noticed one of The Silent drifting in his direction. Even in the cloying heat and humidity, the figure had his cowl up, his face hidden in its shadows. There were a few members of this particu-lar order on the planet at various Rimsoos, offering their presence for whatever good it might be. The Silent would pass close to him, though their paths would not quite intersect.

As the figure drew near, Bleyd noticed a peculiar odor coming from it. It was not unpleasant-in fact, it had a heady, almost spiceflower-like aroma, noticeable even over the fecund stenches of the nearby swamp. Offhand, he knew of no species that carried this particular scent. He filed it away for later consideration as The Silent passed. He had more important things on his mind.

The head of the security unit was Colonel Kohn Doil, a Vunakian human with a pattern of ritual scars on his forehead, cheeks, and depilated head. The geometric whorls and configurations of the raised cicatrices, which signified caste status, were amazingly intricate. Bleyd knew that Doil had not used a pain inhibitor dur-ing the scarification ceremony; it was one of the reasons he had hired the man. A unit commander with a high pain threshold was not a bad combination.

Doil alighted from the transport, saluted, and apolo-gized for the delay in his arrival.

"A vortex storm hit the main camp just before I was due to depart; the wind wrecked the transport on the pad, along with a goodly portion of the supply prefabs and trooper barracks."

"No need to apologize for the weather on this for-saken planet, Colonel. But let us waste no more time. I know you have the facts of the case, and the autopsy re-port showing the poison used, but since I was there when the Hutt died, I thought I should brief you person-ally."

"I appreciate that, Admiral," Doil said as they walked back through the camp. "If I might be so bold as to ask, how did that come to pass? That you happened to be there?"

"I had heard certain rumors about Filba that I found disturbing. I suspected that he might have been respon-sible for a black-market operation, and maybe even for the destruction of the bota transport not long ago. In short, I feared he was either an illegal entrepreneur or a Separatist spy."

"Ah. You think it was suicide, then? Fear of being caught and disgraced?"

Bleyd did not want to appear too eager to lay that hy-pothesis before the colonel. Doil was an adept security officer, and it would be better if he came to the conclu-sion on his own. "Possible, of course. It might also be that the Hutt had a confederate who saw that we sus-pected his partner and decided to eliminate him. Hutts are not well known for their bravery under pressure."

Doil said, "Sir. Hutts are not known for their bravery under any circumstances. It would seem most unusual, however, for there to be a spy in a medical unit in the middle of nowhere, much less two of them."

Bleyd shrugged. "As you say. Better to consider all the possibilities, however."

"Yes, sir."

"I expect you’ll need to find quarters before begin-ning your investigation. I shall remain here for a few days, to offer what help I can. Feel free to call upon me as necessary."

"Sir." Doil saluted, then set off to find Vaetes and arrange for his new lodgings.

As Bleyd headed back to his own quarters, he consid-ered the situation yet again. He knew that Filba hadn’t poisoned himself. The Hutt had thought that Bleyd could protect him-that he would protect him-and he was too much the coward to ever snuff his own greasy flame.

No, somebody had murdered the slug, and under the Rule of Simple Solutions, it was likely that whoever had done that was the same one who had been spying upon them. But why? Bleyd shook his head. That was another question. Better to first determine the "Who" and then worry about the "Why."